


You Know How I Do

by severinne



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Handcuffs, M/M, PWP, Prostitution, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-12
Updated: 2009-07-12
Packaged: 2017-10-15 06:08:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/157798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/severinne/pseuds/severinne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gene catches Sam with a rentboy during a raid, and demands an explanation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Know How I Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saintvic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintvic/gifts).



‘Right.’ Gene slammed the flat door shut behind them and ensured the lock was set before turning back to his DI. ‘You’ve got five seconds to explain yourself.’

‘Piss off.’ The retort was venomous, but Gene knew it was fed by humiliation. Sam couldn’t even look him in the eye, which only made him angrier.

‘Four,’ he counted ominously, eyes narrowed.

‘It’s none of your damn business, Guv.’ Sam was charging towards his bathroom door, no doubt determined to lock himself in there until Gene cleared off but Gene wasn’t having any of that. His longer legs carried him there a few seconds faster, and his stronger arms easily shoved Sam back into the main room of his flat.

‘It became my business, Tyler, when I had to convince three bloody plod to look the other way while I dragged your arse out the back door of that vile cesspit of a brothel,’ he snapped. ‘And so help me God, if you don’t start convincing me why you deserved even that much after I found my DI shacked up with some cock-sucking tart of a rent-boy–’

‘We were doing nothing of the sort,’ Sam snapped vehemently. It was almost convincing, and it stung Gene to the core knowing he would have bought that self-righteous denial yesterday, but not now.

‘Your wallet. On his nightstand.’ Gene advanced accusingly on him, almost surprised at how his voice was growing softer rather than louder. ‘His diseased little fingers, unbuttoning your shirt, so don’t even pretend you weren’t there for the same cheap kicks as the rest of the scum we just cleared out of that hole.’ He forced himself to stop just within reach of Sam: not too close, his gloved fists kept clenched at his sides. ‘Start talking.’

Long experience of interrogating suspects told him that something in Sam was starting to break but more recent experience – of interrogations with Sam at his side – had also taught Gene that Sam was never one to give in without a fight. That tight, anxious energy thrumming through his lithe frame like a plucked string was holding everything in, keeping his lips tightly sealed and his eyes carefully averted. His expression was almost pained with regret, yet Sam just shook his head. Gene growled with frustration.

‘Fine.’ He took that last step, the one that brought him too close, and unhooked his handcuffs from his belt. ‘You’d rather spend a night in cells thinking about it, that’s fine by me.’

‘That’s not what I–’ Sam started, still staring fixedly away, only to freeze at the snap of cold metal around his left wrist. The loud click of the cuff transformed him in a second, set his eyes wide with shock and, perhaps, fear. Gene shoved any concern for that aside and reached for Sam’s other wrist.

‘ _No_ ,’ he cried, panicked and hoarse, thrashing away from his touch. Sam stumbled backward towards the locked door, the wall close enough behind him that Gene easily pinned him there with a quick grab and shove, a hand still clenched tight around the other end of the cuffs, his other arm braced across Sam’s heaving chest.

‘If you don’t tell me what’s going on, Sam, then you’re no better than the rest of those greasy pervs we just arrested,’ he snarled, repressing a stab of regret at the flash of hurt in Sam’s eyes. ‘So I’ll say it again. Start. _Talking._ ’

‘I can’t.’ Gene ignored that pained whisper and surged in threateningly closer, their bodies pushed tight together. Sam flinched, squeezed his eyes shut. ‘Please… don’t…’

The choked desperation in Sam’s voice made him hesitate, anger dissipating long enough for Gene to register, with a brighter flare of shock, that Sam had an erection, pressing hard into his thigh.

Well, shit.

He glanced downward, confirming with his eyes what his body already knew and then some because the telltale length of Sam’s cock bulging obscenely in his tight jeans made his arousal far more apparent than the vague pressure and heat of the thing. Heart hammering, mouth dry with disbelief, Gene forced his gaze upward again, examining the flush in Sam’s cheeks, the tight set of his mouth, his wary, shame-suffused eyes that still refused to meet his own gaze.

‘Don’t…’ he pleaded again, barely audible.

Gene narrowed his eyes and tugged, hard, on his end of the cuffs, drawing Sam’s trapped wrist above his head and pinning it to the wall with a faint clink of the short chain. Sam sucked in a startled gasp but didn’t struggle, so Gene slowly, carefully, relaxed his hold over Sam’s chest, let his hand wander upward until it closed, almost gently, around Sam’s smooth neck. The heat of his skin was palpable even through the leather of his glove. He squeezed his fingers, just the once, and felt Sam’s cock twitch hard against his thigh, just barely caught the hint of a moan rumbling under the pressing heel of his hand.

‘Is this what you were after?’ Gene asked quietly, easing his grip on Sam’s throat just enough to run his thumb along the pulsing vein in his neck, leaning in close enough to rasp the question directly into Sam’s ear. He was sorely, painfully tempted to bite the delicate flesh but held himself firmly in check, everything under control.

‘I…’ A shaky sigh ruffled Gene’s hair, heavy with hesitation.

‘Don’t even think of lying to me, Sammy-boy.’ He tightened his fingers again around Sam’s throat, pressed his thigh harder into his groin. ‘Say it.’

Sam groaned breathlessly through his constricted windpipe. ‘ _Yes,_ ’ he confessed, squirming restlessly against Gene’s leg. ‘Yes, I… it was for this, I wanted…’

‘Wanted what?’ Although a heady mix of jealousy, rage and lust made him want nothing more than to nail Sam to the wall with his entire body, Gene drew back slightly to fix Sam with a demanding glare. ‘Tell me exactly what you were after, what you were paying that prossie to do with you…’

The blush in Sam’s face deepened and spread down into the open neck of his shirt. Staring evasively at the ceiling, he licked his lips and furrowed his brow. ‘I wanted…’ he shook his head, finally forced himself to look Gene in the eyes, ‘I _needed_ to stop fighting for a little while, to just give up and not have to think or worry or second-guess…’ Sam had to draw breath to continue his rapid rambling; the pause seemed to calm his nerves somewhat, slowed him down. ‘I wasn’t gonna fuck that man.’

Gene narrowed his eyes, squinting dubiously. ‘Sam.’

‘I was paying him to fuck me. ’

The hard, blunt statement knocked the air out of Gene’s lungs as swiftly as though Sam had punched him, leaving him gasping with the realization that the taut tension between them had kicked into reverse. Judging by the hard triumph in Sam’s face, the smug bastard knew it and all.

‘I was paying him to use me and fuck me and _dominate_ me,’ he elaborated, his voice suddenly thick with daring. ‘Do you have a problem with that? _Guv?_ ’

‘Yeah,’ Gene breathed hoarsely. His fingers tightened around Sam’s throat to drag him forward, away from the wall and tight against his body. ‘Yeah, I’ve definitely got a problem when I find out you’ve been paying some rent-boy to do _my_ job, you greedy tart.’

With no further warning, Gene flung Sam down onto his narrow folding bed. The landing didn’t sound comfortable – the pained grimace on Sam’s face was pretty compelling evidence of that fact – and the high-pitched creaking of feeble bedsprings only grew louder when Gene knelt astride his wriggling body, one hand still steering Sam by the stray end of the handcuffs. He caught Sam’s free wrist and drew both his hands up to the end of the bed frame, leaning forward so the full length of his body pinned Sam to the mattress while he threaded the short chain of the cuffs around the bed rail, locking his other wrist in place.

‘Tell me,’ he ordered darkly, tangling his gloved fingers into Sam’s suddenly relaxed hands. ‘Was he gonna cuff you to his bed, like this?’

‘Umm…’ Sam craned his head back and tugged gently at his chained wrists, humming appreciatively when the cuffs and Gene’s hands prevented the movement. ‘Not quite… he usually used rope to tie me up.’

Gene wasn’t a bloody schoolteacher but something in Sam’s grammar made his heart stutter well before his brain caught up. ‘Used,’ he repeated blankly. He released Sam’s hands and pushed himself upright, still sitting astride Sam’s thighs.

‘Yeah.’ Sam blinked up at him, his face so open that Gene could see the exact moment that realization shuttered over his features.

‘Usually used.’

‘Er…’

‘He’s already had you.’ A twinge of loss dampened Gene’s fierce arousal. He knew Sam was nowhere near the blushing innocent he playacted at being around CID, but he had entertained idle fantasies about this being new to them both, of being the first man to have Sam like this. Lips tight, he glared down at his fingers tugging at Sam’s belt buckle. The worry of not having a bloody clue what he was doing here crept through the back of his mind, and damned if he wanted Sam to see any of that uncertainty making its way into his eyes.

‘Gene…?’ That lithe body shifted, perhaps in discomfort but the flex and arch of muscles beneath his hands rekindled something of Gene’s need. He tugged Sam’s shirt loose from his trousers and tore it open, perversely gratified that Sam hadn’t worn a vest underneath for his little assignation.

‘Gave it all up to that whore, did you?’ With his hands cuffed to the bed, there was little Gene could do to fully strip Sam of his shirt and jacket but he shoved aside what he could, gloved palms dragging firmly over bare flesh as though he could rub out the imaginary trace of another man’s touch. ‘Let him have all of this…’

‘Gene,’ Sam repeated, with an impatient edge to his voice that made Gene look up. ‘Gene, it’s… look, it’s not a big deal, okay? I’m not exactly a virgin–’

His open palm connected with Sam’s face faster than he could stop it. Sam broke off with a soft gasp, head flung sideways by the force of the slap. Gene froze, stunned, then shuddered at the sight of Sam’s tongue deliberately wetting his parted lips around a breathy moan. The sound was helpless, almost pleading, but the heated look he fixed upon Gene from the corner of his eye was heavy with want.

It burned all of Gene’s reservations to ashes.

He grabbed at Sam’s jaw, forced his gaze with an impatient jerk of his hand, and had two gloved fingers shoved into Sam’s willing mouth before he could second-guess himself. ‘Think I don’t know that?’ Gene sneered viciously. His other hand clawed downward, roughly unfastening Sam’s trousers. ‘Nothing sweet or blushing about the way you carry on…. like a damned bitch in heat, you are…’

Sam moaned around his mouthful, arching his head back to draw his tongue up to the tips of Gene’s fingers, licking delicately over the spit-slick leather. The obscene spectacle of Sam’s mouth worshipping his gloved hand was so distracting that he had already been fondling Sam’s erection for several beats before he registered that the job had been too quick, too easy. He glanced down, and bit back a fierce growl.

‘Forgot your undies today, did you?’ Gene snatched his hand away from Sam’s sinful mouth, used a single slick finger to draw a wet line along the full length of Sam’s cock, brazenly exposed beneath his unfastened trousers. Sam shivered, though Gene wasn’t sure if it was a response to the touch or the question.

‘Didn’t forget, exactly,’ Sam admitted breathlessly.

‘Didn’t think so.’ Gene wrapped his fingers tight around Sam, gave the flesh an experimental squeeze that set his DI quivering and panting. ‘Slut,’ he purred fondly.

‘ _Yes…_ ’ Sam bucked up into his hand, cuffed hands clutching the bed rail to brace the hard, trembling arc of his body rising from the mattress. ‘Fuck, Gene…just like that, don’t stop…’

‘Is this how he had you?’ Something twisted in Gene couldn’t resist asking the question, jealousy turning his touch rough as he forced Sam’s trousers further down and claimed him with fumbling fingers that couldn’t decide whether they wanted to torture or tease his gorgeous cock and it was probably the worst handjob of Sam’s salacious life but Gene couldn’t care less so long as Sam kept whimpering like that. ‘Did he smack you about, call you nasty names?’ Sam answered with a strained whine that moved through the tempting length of his throat, something shifting beneath his flushed skin that Gene had to chase down with his teeth, using his free hand to tug Sam’s head back by his too-short hair.

‘You whored yourself to a fucking whore,’ he growled between punishing bites along his neck. A stuttering moan vibrated beneath his mouth. ‘But you’re _mine_ now, got it? And you’re gonna tell me every filthy detail of what that disgusting piece of shit did with you, and you’re gonna moan and beg twice as much when I do every one of those things to you for myself.’ He pumped Sam faster, driven on by the rising cadence of his cries, by the rush of raw possessiveness charging through his veins. ‘No one else gets to use you like that, because you’re _my_ whore now… my lovely, dirty boy, gonna give you everything you need from now on…’

Sam came with a broken shout, the sound as breathtaking as the sight of his head thrown back, baring the full length of his beautiful neck. He couldn’t stop watching Sam falling apart beneath his hand, kept stroking his softening length until he let out a faintly pained whimper. Though Gene relented with mindless shushing sounds, his hand was unable to part from Sam’s body; he slid his palm up the sweating expanse of Sam’s torso, slicking through the cooling traces of his release. _So gorgeous_.

‘…Gorgeous,’ Gene breathed, helplessly rapt. He settled backward between Sam’s legs, dragging his hand back downward to lift a trembling thigh, posing his boneless body into perfection. ‘Just look at you…’ How he had gotten his own trousers open Gene would never know, but it didn’t matter now that he had his inflamed cock in hand, the slide of his glove eased by Sam’s come staining the leather. He fisted himself urgently, eyes roving greedily over the breathtaking sight before him, knowing that the memory of this – of Sam, flushed, disheveled, come-spattered and chained to his bed – was going to feature in countless masturbatory fantasies to come.

‘Gene… please, let me…’ Sam strained and fought against his restraints, glazed eyes bright with determination. ‘Want to touch you…’

‘Not this time.’ He stared at the bruise of a bite rising on his neck rather than looking Sam in the eye, heart racing to think how embarrassingly soon he’d be undone if he were to allow Sam to pleasure him with his hands, or his mouth… _fuck_. ‘Gonna shoot off all over you,’ he growled, ‘come all over your pretty face… show you who you belong to…’

‘Oh, god… _yes_ …’ A moan broke past Sam’s lips as his body writhed against the mattress, stretching and arching and so obviously offering himself up for Gene’s use that the sight alone made his throat tighten with desire. ‘Please… do it, Gene, please, mark me… _own_ me…’

The desperate rambling of Sam’s voice pushed him over the edge without warning, tore his orgasm from him so ruthlessly that he toppled forward and barely caught himself with his left hand while the right kept pumping his spasming cock, his release mingling with the semen already staining Sam’s smooth skin.

It made for quite the mess, as Gene discovered when he finally collapsed onto Sam’s body, the front of his shirt growing sticky and wet where it was plastered between their heaving chests. He distantly realized it might be a problem later when, _if_ he left Sam’s bed, but for now he sighed deeply with satisfaction, his head rolling lazily sideways to track the scent and sight of Sam’s skin from so close, nuzzling into his luxurious neck and up to the sharp line of his jaw.

His gaze settled on Sam’s lips – temptingly parted, flushed a dusky pink – and Gene winced to realize that they hadn’t even kissed yet. He reached up awkwardly, a grumbling voice in the back of his mind already condemning him for a soft, girly twonk but it was the mess on his gloves that stopped him short. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, Gene sat upright again, hastily stripping the gloves away.

‘Gene?’ Sam mumbled, almost slurring with exhaustion. ‘What’re you…’

Hands bare, and blessedly clean, Gene cradled his confused face in his palms, thumbs stroking his cheekbones as he silenced his question with a slow, possessive kiss. He tongued his way past Sam’s lips and pushed towards wet heat, claiming the inside of Sam’s surrendered mouth as his own.

‘Mine.’ It was both a threat and a promise, punctuated by a gentle bite to Sam’s lower lip. When he pulled back enough to look again upon his prize, he was met with wide amber-dark eyes scrutinizing him with a mixture of wonder and fear.

‘That, er…’ Sam licked his lips nervously, nearly tempting Gene to ravish his mouth again. ‘You weren’t just winding me up, then?’

Gene blinked incredulously. ‘What the hell are you… Bloody hell, Sam, I’m not in the habit of getting me hands all over other blokes’ todgers, and no way was I about to start just for a laugh, what the hell d’you take me for?’ He scowled at the dawning realization in Sam’s face, worried that he had revealed too much, too soon. ‘M’not a damn prossie,’ he muttered.

A brilliant smile spread over Sam’s face. ‘No, you’re not,’ he agreed softly. His head craned and tilted upward, silently requesting another kiss that Gene easily granted. The taste of Sam’s mouth, the clever slip of his tongue was dangerously addictive.

‘So…’ Sam murmured, lips still brushing delicately. ‘Think you could let me go now?’

Gene smirked at the faint rattle of the handcuffs against the bed rail. ‘Never.’


End file.
